


Bad First Impressions

by PerserveranceNotLOVE



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Rebellion, Rebels, Slave Trade, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21566488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerserveranceNotLOVE/pseuds/PerserveranceNotLOVE
Summary: Fen'Harel wants peace. Not gonna happen with all of the injustice carried out against the People.Shivana wants to help. Not gonna happen with ten men trying to capture her.Maybe Solas and Alyssia can do better, though.
Relationships: Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Bad First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jubilation_Lee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubilation_Lee/gifts).



Arlathan, the beloved capital of Elvhenan. It is known as a place of beauty and magic surpassing all others kingdoms. The human kingdoms still wallow in mud and filth, barbaric as they are. The dwarven kingdoms below the surface may span thousands of kilometres, but they are only absent minded servants of the titans, nothing more than a hive of stocky creatures to feed and care for the titans where they roam. But great Arlathan is a marvel of magic and architecture. Its greatest spires and highest clouds house wondrous noble houses and palaces and temples. Even the poorest areas of the city are more beautiful and clean than what you would expect a place that houses the lower classes of society to ever be like. But such is beautiful Arlathan. 

Such is our great city Arlathan.

Such is the sins of Arlathan, awash in beauty.

And no one is more aware of the transgressions and filth hidden under such beauty than those subject to those sins.

A sigh escapes pale lips, months of sleepless nights lightening a normally healthy skin to a pale, pallid colouring. Long legs dangle casually over a drop, the owner of them perched precariously on a ledge halfway up one of the tallest spires in the Nehn'atha'an. Months into his silent campaign against the rest of those called the Evanuris, the one known as Fen'Harel has finally managed to find a moment to slip away and center himself. 

Stormy eyes track the hustle and bustle of the populace below, a frown dipping his lips at seeing the familiar signs of the problem at hand all around the area.

A vendor peddling flesh among the stalls of cloth. 

A young man following silently behind a noble lady, lurid vallaslin colouring his face.

A little girl following her mamae down the street, happily helping haul the bags of goods as she talks avidly with the slave next to her. That quickly stops when the mamae strikes the young woman for daring to speak to the child while on duty.

In the privacy of his mind, Fen'Harel sourly thinks that the young woman is never off duty as a slave. He also pities the da'lan for the simple fact that she will grow up to be no different from her mamae, simply by virtue of brainwashing. And he truly does consider it brainwashing. How else do you convince the innocent da'lenen that subjugating your kin is normal? 

He sighs quietly and shakes away those thoughts. A quick movement sends him over the edge of the ledge, falling rapidly into a back alleyway. Despite the quick speed, his feet barely make a sound as he lands thanks to the specially enchanted braan on his feet. 

Fen'Harel closes his eyes briefly and breathes out before opening them and straightening his hood to cover his hair fully. A quick sticking spell to keep it in place later, he strides out of the alleyway and slips into the throngs of people. His presence goes unnoticed, thanks in no small part to the hood he wears that Nehna had enchanted to keep people from connecting him as Solas to him as Fen'Harel, as he weaves through the crowd and looks over the various stalls. He comes to a stop in front of the man selling some of the People.

"Come, come, friend! I have quite the diverse selection on sale for you to choose from, and my wares are all well trained!" the man boisterously exclaims, obviously putting on the image of the 'eager and friendly salesman'.

Solas has to bite back his immediate urge to snarl at the man. Instead, he lets his gaze roam around the 'wares'. He almost snorts aloud. This man has as much diversity in his 'wares' as Elgar'nan had patience. All of them are young women, surely not even past their first century of life yet. None of the People here are marked yet by vallaslin, but that will change as soon as they are bought and brought to their owners. The thought sends a frown to his lips.

The salesman mistakes the frown for a look of discontent at the selection. He quickly says, "If perhaps you are disappointed by our selection here, we have more robust and experienced ones elsewhere!"

Solas quirks an eyebrow. This may be a good opportunity for some scouting, even if this is a warehouse that they already know the location of. 

"I would like to see the extent of your collection. What I see here is...lacking," He drawls in a bored tone, putting on the airs of an aristocrat. 

As expected, the businessman almost falls over himself assuring Solas that they have a much wider range stored elsewhere. 

The businessman waves over a taller male slave standing nearby and snaps out, "You! Take my guest and escort him to the warehouse. You will go there and directly back, no stops for any reason."

The slave is well trained, and therefore doesn't respond beyond a quick incline of his head and a quiet, "As you wish, my lord."

The slave turns and starts off through the crowd, walking swiftly but slow enough so as to let the one following him keep up. It takes only a few minutes of walking to finally round a corner and be standing at the gates to a building. Before the man can go through, Solas catches his shoulder and he stills. The slave keeps his now slightly terrified eyes on the floor, sending a pang of anger through Solas. 

Solas murmurs, "Lethallin, you deserve more than this." 

The man jerks his head up at the word lethallin, disbelief and wonder in his eyes at being called kin to this unmarked elvhen man. 

Solas smiles softly, "Would you like your freedom? To be able to choose your own fate from now on?" He gets his answer very shortly when the vallaslin on the marked man's face start glowing lightly. The vallaslin forces the person it marks to never have thoughts of rebelling against the will of their owner, lest the vallaslin begin glowing and burning the skin of the person in question. The slave stares Solas in the eyes, desperation burning in his eyes as the marks begin getting brighter. 

Solas gives him a reassuring look and reaches forward to send soothing magics into his face, lessening the sting of the marks even as he subtly wraps his magic around the magic of the marks to pry it loose. It is with no small amount of happiness that he watches the marks begin to fade before they are gone entirely.

Sometime during the process, the other elvhen man had closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, likely having been deprived of any kind touch. Solas draws back and the man's eyes snap open with panic, though he calms at seeing the reassuring glance. 

Solas tells the man about a safe place near Mythal's temple and sends him towards it with instructions about secret passages to use that will keep him out of sight. After the other man has gone, he turns towards the place that houses more of the People, those yet to be marked. His small smile turns to a smirk. 

* * *

  
  


Fire sweeps through the air and screams accompany the sound of it impacting someone, as well as the acrid smell of burning flesh. Solas is quick to follow it with a wind spell strong enough to blow the remains and smell of the last slaver in the building away from any of the cowering People. Solas drops from where he had been standing on top of a stack of metal boxes to keep the high ground advantage and sighs, rolling his shoulders. 

He turns and begins going from person to person, not pursuing the ones who cringe away but ensuring that all of them know places to go and safe routes to each location. Meanwhile, he is inwardly sighing at his inability to stay away from trouble even on his days off. Once all of the People are up and about and heading out at different intervals towards safe places for them, he strides out a back exit and slips into the maze of back streets that makes up the majority of the Nehn'atha'an. 

About three streets later, he is almost bowled over by two children who are running from around a corner and sobbing. He manages to steady them before they do and glances over them. Bland white, black, and grey clothing with no decorations and wearing small boots typical of the children of slaves or workers. Neither are marked, but the burned ring around both of their wrists indicates a slaver's claim. 

He frowns, "Da'linen, where is your mamae?"

The one that looks youngest hiccups, tears still streaming down his face with his ears pressed back in panic, "D-don't know! Th-they took mamae and mamaela and isa'ma'lin and now they're g-gonna take a-asa'ma'lin, too!"

The older one, a little more in control of herself but with tears staining her face, tugs his cloak and firmly says, "You-You gotta help her! A-asa'ma'lin helped us, but they're gonna get her too!" 

He gently hushes both children and firmly orders, "Run east, da'linen. Do not stop or look back until you see the two great wolf statues. Flee into the depths of the building there, and you will be safe."

The older girl grabs the younger boy's hand and immediately obeys, pulling the boy behind her. 

Solas straightens and moves to turn the corner, only to actually be knocked down by someone barreling around the corner as well. He instinctively wraps his arms around the person and uses his magic to guide their fall and cushion the floor, making the impact only mildly uncomfortable. The person appears stunned and pulls back enough to look at Solas' face. 

Solas immediately analyzes the appearance of what he now realizes is a young woman, likely not more than a few centuries old. With lightly tanned skin and dark eyes and hair, she could almost pass as a working class woman, if it were not for the smooth skin unmarred by any scars, blemishes, or vallaslin. A noble girl in this part of town isn't rare, but it also isn't exactly common. 

He doesn't have any more time to analyze her before a group of men come around the corner and barely manage to avoid tripping over the downed duo. For a split second, he and the group eye each other in curiosity before the girl grips his collar and pulls his gaze to her forcibly. 

He sees a fire in her eyes and the desperate but determined set of her lips as she grounds out, "I don't know who you are, but I swear by all in the Beyond that if you do not let me go this instant I will take you down with me." 

Belatedly, he realizes he has yet to let go. He also realizes that with those men less than two feet away, there is no way she will be able to outrun them. 

He also makes the connection between this girl and those children.

So he pulls her down further, barely paying attention as she struggles to get free. He used one arm to shield her with his cloak and the other to snap out and draw a symbol in the air. As soon as he moves, the men begin preparing their own spells, but it's too late. With a flourish and a snap, an inferno rocks the area, sending searing heat through the street and even burning some of the areas of Solas' body that lay outside the cloak. 

He grimaced and immediately sends healing magic to those areas, noting with some surprise that the girl has stopped struggling. Once the danger has passed, he opens his cloak to allow the girl out. She immediately rockets away from him, but not before striking him across the face. The unexpected slap snaps his head to the side and he looks back to her, stunned by the action. 

She yells at him, obviously rather pissed off judging from the amount of curses that flow from her lips, "How dare you hold me down! Fucking typical of you slave owning assholes to not know the meaning of the word consent! I wanted to be let go!"

Immediately incensed by the insinuation that he owns slaves and that he would ever force himself on any woman, he spits out, "I wouldn't have had to _save you_ if you hadn't _run me over_!"

" _Save me?!_ " She incredulously responds.

Solas grits his teeth and pulls himself to his feet in a graceful, practiced motion, "Yes, _saved you_. How dare you make accusations of someone you just met! I was helping you, not trying to hold you down or anything of the sort."

She huffs, though she appears to have lost most of her anger for some reason, "I could have handled it myself, you know."

He rolls his eyes in a very uncharacteristic display of irritation, "Oh yes, because ten men chasing one girl would have ended so very well."

The anger returns to her eyes, "Don't you dare take that tone with me! I was doing what I could to help!"

Solas can't hold back the snort, "Helping? Who, those children and their families? You are one girl, not exactly and army. I understand wanting to help, but you can't just be confronting every slaver in Elvhenan head-on."

The girl glowers at him, "What do you suggest then, oh wise and honourable elder?"

That actually pulls a laugh from him. In all likelihood, he probably is this woman's elder by several millennia at least. He stifles it and sternly says, "If you absolutely must involve yourself in such affairs, then stick to the shadows. You have very few allies that abide your thinking, you must stay hidden and keep your true thoughts hidden, else you manage to get yourself killed or enslaved."

The girl, who has seemed to fully calm by now, eyes him, "But you know who those few allies are, don't you." It isn't a question, just a simple stated fact. 

He hums noncommittaly.

She tilts her head, stepping towards him and firmly ordering, "You will show me these allies."

He makes a small, amused sound in his throat before asking, "And whyever would I do that, noble girl?"

She stares him down, determination drawing her posture up and defining her face, "Because I can help. I want to help. And I have allies no one but a noble would. As you said, I'm a noble girl. I'm high up enough that I have good connections, but as a second daughter no one pays attention to me. I'm an asset."

Solas eyes her. A second daughter to a noble family would actually be beneficial...but he's also fairly certain Ivise would kill him for bringing a noble onto this. 

He finally sighs, "I will...think about it. If you truly wish for this, I...hmmm…" 

He holds his hand out and with barely a thought and a flare of power, a small white blossom is created and lays on the palm of his hand. 

He holds it out to her, "Here. Take this. It should be relatively unnoticeable and something that would suit a noble maiden to pluck and carry. It has my magic, so I shall be able to find you should I come to the decision to include you. The flower will wilt if I decide not to. I shall either approach you or let it die in three days."

She huffs irritatedly but plucks the flower from his outstretched palm, "Make it two, I don't want to be kept waiting. Who are you anyways?"

He almost starts sarcastically chiding her for lack of manners, since the lower status always introduces themselves first. Instead, he barely manages to redirect his words to something safer, "I am called Solas. And you?"

She hesitates for only a second, "I'm Sh...Alyssia. Call me Alyssia."

He quirks an eyebrow but doesn't call attention to it. If she wants a new start, that's fine with him.

"Alyssia," he murmurs, the almost foreign name rolling off his tongue, "I shall potentially see you in two days."

He turns to go but pauses and turns back to where she still stands, staring after him with a peculiar look on her face, "By the way, those two children that ran through here earlier ran east."

With that, he slips away, thoughts now occupied by a fiery noble girl.


End file.
